


Prelude to Madness

by abbyforth



Series: A Modern Silmarillion, Wait What! [1]
Category: The Silmarillion
Genre: Confusion, Drama, F/M, disfunctional families, modern! silmarillion, not for eol fans, slight creepy violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyforth/pseuds/abbyforth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern! AU in which Maglor owns a bookshop and hires a hapless college student who is totally not prepared for any of this. <br/>A prequel in which Feanor is aimless and Aredhel's life changes drastically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude to Madness

**Author's Note:**

> So this amazingly complex story came out of going to a book store and then a music store on the same day. It then occurred to me that Maglor should own a bookstore and this insanity was born. This was also my 2013 camp and eventually my actual NaNoWriMo. Please leave comments and hope you enjoy!

PRELUDE TO MADNESS

Curifinwë Fëánáro stalked angrily through the streets, cursing his miserable existence and family in equal measure. If his father, perfect Finwë hadn’t gone and gotten himself married to Indis things wouldn’t be like this. His mom would still be alive and he, Fëánáro would be happy… He tamped that thought out as he would his cigarette later. What his dad didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And it wasn’t like anyone cared enough to rat him out.   
He knew very little about his mother. Her name had been Mïriel and she was reported to be beautiful… once. Drugs had ruined her silver hair and happy disposition and she had died giving birth to him. Who dies in childbirth anymore he thought angrily. Apparently my mother does… Fëánáro kept walking, his dark hair streaming out behind him. He’d grown it long just to spite Indis. Finwë never noticed his change in looks or attitude. Not that he ever had noticed his eldest beyond fatherly duty before. He was miriel in masculine form, and finwë couldn’t stand to look at one who reminded him of his dead wife. It had been worse after he had married indis, who was so opposite his mother that it sickened him to mention her to anyone even to himself. He had thrown himself into school just to get away from the newlyweds. Then his half-sister Findis, (what kind of a stupid name was that!) was born. School was even more appealing after that. Then Indis got pregnant again. And it was a boy this time. Fëánáro had gotten replaced, an idea that no one seemed to understand. So he came home from school one day, had an exceptionally memorable shouting match with his father, and then stormed out of the house, vowing never to return. He cared little for the thoughts of Indis or his father. What did they need him around for? Now that they had precious Nolofinwë? He could care less that he’d scarred his baby half-siblings for life. That gave him especial relish. Better for all of them to grow up hating him. He’d moved addresses several times so that any letters containing pleas to come home were sent back, Fëänáro none the wiser. He kept walking at a fast clip, so distracted was he that he ran smack into someone, hard. It was an older man, his hair going gray at the temples. What struck his immediate interest however were the various substances and bits of metal stuck to his plain flannel shirt. The man smiled knowingly and said in a rather deep voice, “Hey, you Finwë’s kid?” Immediately Fëänáro made to stalk away and go on with his life. How dare his father send someone after him like this! The man wasn’t fazed in the slightest at Fëanáro’s sudden anger. He laughed the nerve of him! “Of course you are. You look just like him after all. I’m Aulë Martano. I run a glass shop near here. You look smart enough, come work for me and you’ll sleep in the room I got above the shop.”  
And Fëanáro’s fate was sealed, for how could he say no to such an enticing offer to learn a craft? Perhaps if he’d known about his fellow worker, Mahtan and his daughter, Nerdanel, he would have run in the opposite direction. But he was unaware of all that would come to pass. Aulë smiled as he led Finwë’s eldest son towards his shop and his waiting Yavanna. No one, Fëanáro and Finwë included, would know what to make of this...

 

15 years later

 

It had all started when Aredhel had volunteered to babysit her niece Idril for the evening.  
“It’ll give you practice for later life.” Elenwë her sister in law smiled reassuringly mistaking her silence for hesitation. Aredhel just nodded and kept quiet. It wasn’t all bad she decided later after she had made Idril and herself dinner. She was a pretty quiet child so Aredhel could spend most of her time texting her various family members without feeling guilty. Her phone buzzed and a pic of her cousin Turko popped up on the screen. Smiling she tapped the button to reply:  
Hey what u doin?  
Nm babysitting, u?  
Nm who Idril?   
Yeah, im sick of it. I just wann have fun w/u!  
Ik, may B u cld come over tmw?  
At that moment her phone flashed an unknown number.  
“Hello?” she answered with no small amount of hesitation. She never answered such numbers if she could help it.   
“Hey sis, it’s Elenwë…| the phone crackled then went dead.  
She couldn’t quite believe what had happened. The couple had been driving home from an amazing dinner and was planning to stop at the glass shop afterwards. A hit and run, one of those things you think will never happen to you, Aredhel thought. Now it was her job to make sure her brother didn’t do something stupid. Idril wouldn’t understand, Turgon said brokenly. And even though she didn’t quite agree, Aredhel didn’t have the heart to say so. This was the most animated her brother had been since the accident and who was she to ruin the progress he was making?  
But sometimes it got too much for her and she would escape to the park near her house. And that’s where she met him.  
He was an art student, he said. Ëol Morequendë with the dark hair and expressive eyes. She was sucked in before she could turn back. And when she tried, it was too late.  
Aredhel sat in shock in Ëol’s seedy apartment. Staring into the cracked bathroom mirror, she was at a loss. Three pregnancy tests lay on the counter, all positive. And the worst part was that her parents wouldn’t understand. Her uncle Fëanor and his family would, they always seemed to understand everything, much more than Anarë and Fingolfin did. It sometimes amazed Aredhel how stupid her parents were, too stupid to realize that her kid brother Argon spent more and more time away from home now that Turgon was grieving. Only her other brother, the good brother, Fingon seemed to be doing what his parents wanted. But Aredhel hadn’t had much contact with him lately. Not since he’d gone off to uni with her cousin Maitimo… Who knew what trouble the two of them could be in at this very moment…?   
In a dazed sort of detachment, she grabbed her phone and started scrolling through the contacts. Anarë, Amrod… Caranthir… She hit the call button still half in a daze, not realizing she’d got the wrong person until an annoyed voice, most definitely not the right cousin mumbled into the phone.  
“Hello?” Predictably, Caranthir sounded bored.  
“Is Turko there?” God she sounded pathetic.  
“Is Turko there?” he mocked, then laughed in amusement. “Of course he is. What do you want him for?”  
“Just give him the phone, it’s really urgent…” She heard a scuffling sound then Turko was asking her what was wrong. Because she always seemed to call when something was wrong… “I’m so stupid!” she burst out as soon as her favorite cousin was on the line. She had always come to Turko, not her parents or siblings, if she needed advice. Now was no exception. Turko had hated Ëol ever since he had heard his name and profession. His answer did not disappoint.   
“Oh my god, what did he do to you? Wait, never mind, where are you? We need to get you out of there…”  
She was too numb from shock to do more than recite ëol’s address and feel reassured when he said he and Maglor would be there in ten minutes.   
But her shock was short lived when she heard ëol’s drunken laughter on the stairs. And then he was there and she was pressing a knife that she had hidden on her person to his throat. She didn’t give him time to speak; she aimed her slice for the throat… It slipped, ëol grabbed her by the hair, and she saw red. Or was that blood? Her vision darkened.  
“Aredhel! Open the door!” Turko was there and she was finally letting go of all her emotions, while she distantly realized that ëol was fighting with someone and losing. Aredhel finally slumped forward into sweet oblivion and the last thing she heard was “What the hell have you done? This is all your fault, Kurvo! I told you not to come, but you never listen to me, do you?”  
Aredhel opened her eyes to her aunt Nirdanel sitting beside her on the living room couch looking relieved.   
“How far along are you?” Brusque and to the point as always. She tried to think back through her muddled sense of time in the last few months. “At least two months... Oh god how stupid I am! What the hell am I going to do? Do my parents know?” She broke off when Nirdanel held up a hand.  
“Your parents don’t know. But I’m afraid the rest of your family plus this one does…” ‘What a relief Aredhel thought. She knew she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone telling Anairë and Fingolfin that they would be grandparents again. She pushed those less than pleasant thoughts aside and turned back into the conversation.  
“Since your parents aren’t going to help you through this, you’re staying here until I tell you otherwise. And I just want to make sure that you’re keeping the baby…” This was the last straw.  
“Wait, of course I’m keeping it! What kind of person would I be if I got an abortion? You might have done that but I can’t! It’s against my morals!” Nirdanel didn’t reply right away, and when she did it was simply to tell Aredhel where she would be staying.  
After that everything went pretty smoothly. Her brothers visited regularly and even Fëanor was helpful which surprised her greatly. Uncle Fëanor and her dad had no love between them and this unfortunately extended to his kids. Aredhel was making progress and she had a sneaking suspicion that impending motherhood had something to do with it. Fëanor couldn’t resist new little minds to impress. Nirdanel was a great help as Aredhel knew she would be. No one had seven kids and learned nothing from that experience, after all. It was nearing the end of her pregnancy when she nervously sought out her aunt in her studio one afternoon.  
“What can I do for you?” Nirdonel questioned her hands deep in the clay she was molding into a pot that would be displayed at her next art show.  
“I know this sounds stupid, but I have no idea how to do this! I just don’t know… I love this little one already, but…” She broke off, unable to express herself further without sounding stupid. Nirdanel just smiled knowingly and turned to give Aredhel her full attention, the clay completely forgotten.  
“You don’t know if you can be a mother. I had that same problem with Nelyo and all of the rest after. I got the basics down pretty quick, but each person is different. If you want my honest opinion, you’ll do fine. You used to take care of Argon, right?”  
Aredhel nodded, suddenly feeling better about this whole thing. But it didn’t truly hit her until she held her new son just what she’d done and how her life was going to change because of it.


End file.
